


Left of the Middle

by fadagaski



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: jim_and_bones, Fingerfucking, French Kissing, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Sex Pollen, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadagaski/pseuds/fadagaski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The away team come back hopped up on sex pollen. It's all downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left of the Middle

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [the shower picture](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/441722.html) over at [Jim-and-Bones](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com). (flocked).

There aren't enough decontam showers for the number of crewmen pouring into Sickbay with fever-bright eyes and roving hands. It was an away mission to a planet of significant interest to a great many departments, all of whom sent at least two members of staff down. They've all come back with spores glittering on their skin and in their eyes.

Leonard's staff are scarily efficient at this procedure now, yanking kissing/groping/frottaging couples apart to shove them half-clothed into the shower units. Chapel's in a full biohazard suit as she jumps into and out of each unit to cut the last clothes away before overstimulated bodies can do more than grind against her.

"Where the hell is – oh, never mind," because Leonard's turned to the Sickbay doors and spotted Jim amongst a tangle of limbs. A hot spark of lust-jealousy flares within his chest, but he can see the same spores in Jim's hair, dusting along his shoulders.

"Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven. That's all the away team accounted for," M'Benga says, coming to stand next to Leonard, who's still staring transfixed as Jim grinds forward into – is that Chekov? – and throws his head back to bite at Sulu's neck. "You might want to do something about that," M'Benga notes.

"Right." Leonard wades in, hauling them towards the only shower unit left with a firm hand on Sulu and Chekov's collars. Jim, pinned in the middle, doesn't even seem to notice the change, stumbling along, and Leonard can see his tongue disappearing into Chekov's mouth. "Fuck. Okay, in we go," he says, stepping into the shower and pulling them in after him. The water streams on automatically.

"Bones?" Jim slurs. Chekov and Sulu both delve into the crook of Jim's neck, one on each side. Leonard can see when they bite, because Jim's head lolls back and he shivers from head to foot.

"Yeah Jim, I'm here."

"Mmm, c'mere." A lazy hand flops away from the back of Chekov's head to flutter at Leonard.

"I'm good thanks," Leonard says, though there's a deep throbbing in his pants that would like to suggest otherwise. He leans to the left to shout for Chapel over Chekov's shoulders, and in his distraction, doesn't notice Jim's hand until it's pawing at his face. Between one breath and the next, the seal on his mask is broken and he's breathing the musk-filled, _spore-filled_ air. "Fuck, JIM!" he hollers, but it's too late. Already the light is saturating his vision as his pupils dilate, he can feel the heat burning under his skin.

"Doctor, I'm here –"

"Chapel, I'm compromised. Get them out of these clothes right now and then shut the goddamn door!"

"Aye sir," she says, and does exactly as she's told. Leonard's got enough control left to tug his own shirt off, but then the fever's in his blood and he can't do anything but zero in on Jim's lips, swollen and red and parted as if waiting for a kiss Leonard's only too glad to give him.

Chekov has to move to avoid getting crushed, but Leonard gets a hand on the back of his neck like the damn puppy he is and pushes him in the direction of Sulu, over Jim's shoulder. He can hear the slick smack of their lips together, threads a hand through Sulu's hair to keep them occupied. The shower wall's frigid against his back but he doesn't care because Jim's leaning towards him and their mouths are meeting and all Leonard can think about is _hot-wet-suck-tongue-lips_.

He's still got his pants on, and they're utterly plastered to his skin with water, but that doesn't stop Leonard from grinding his painful hard-on against whatever body is nearest. He thinks it's probably Chekov, doesn't care, keeps his mouth sealed over Jim's, their tongues gliding sinuous and exotic against each other. Trapped between the three of them, Jim can't do much more than writhe, thrusting forward into Chekov and back against Sulu. The angle's totally awkward for a kiss but it doesn't matter, Leonard doesn't care, keeps grinding against a bony hip.

At least the shower's working. Leonard comes back to his senses before he's even come in his pants. He pulls back from Jim with an obscene smacking sound, feels a rush of lust when Jim whimpers, eyes hooded and glinting.

"Jim, I – FUCK." There's a hand on his cock, scorching hot even through wet fabric, rubbing firm up and down. "That had better be you, kid," Leonard growls. Jim grins, and then he gasps as Chekov leans in and nips at his bottom lip. Sulu glances down, and Leonard can just imagine what he's looking at: his cock, riding the cleft of Jim's ass, sliding between those firm cheeks, so temptingly close to the heat within.

A hand flails for his own, pulling it down, and Leonard's so caught up in the pressure on his cock and the images – memories – of Jim's ass with a dick in it that he doesn't realise it's Chekov, guiding his fingers back to his hole. He doesn't actually do anything, Chekov's got a fierce grip on his fingers as he slides them between his cheeks, blunt nails catching on the wrinkles of his hole. Chekov wails, full out and loud, bucks twice onto Leonard's thick digits, and comes against Jim. There's not a lick of space between them so Leonard can't see the evidence, but he can smell it, musky in his nose.

"Fuck, Pavel," Sulu gasps. Leonard can't even see him with Jim suddenly kissing him again, but he trails his hand down Sulu's back to his ass and just like that, the pilot is grunting and coming, his hips thrusting hard and fierce against the small of Jim's back.

The two both slump back, breathing hard, hair dripping wet, so that Jim's got just enough room to turn fully against Leonard, leaning into him until they're bare chest to bare chest. Leonard shivers from the cold water and Jim's hot tongue, tracing rivulets down his neck and over his chest. Jim's thrusting blindly against whatever's pressed against his cock – Leonard checks, sees that it's Chekov's skinny thigh – but he's flexible and a multitasker and he's got Leonard's pants open just enough that his cock can peek through. All it takes is a lick of Jim's tongue against the slit and Leonard's coming, all over Jim's face, biting his lip so he doesn't cry out and embarrass himself.

Jim stands back up, strands of come striping his cheeks and his neck and his lips and God, there's a bit in his hair. Leonard surges forward to kiss him, tastes his seed and dislikes it as always but he doesn't _care_ because Jim's mewling and his hands are gripping either side of Leonard's head like he's going to be anywhere but sharing spit and heat with Jim right now. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Sulu lean forward to nose and mouth at the base of Jim's neck, and then Chekov skids down the wall to his knees and there's _definitely_ not enough room for that but he does it anyway. Jim jolts when Chekov swallows him down, clenches Leonard's face so hard it hurts, and then he's yelling into Leonard's mouth, a steady rhythmic bleat of arousal. Leonard swallows it all just as much as Chekov does. He gets one hand between navigator and captain to fondle at his balls, pressing against the tender skin behind, can feel Sulu's fingers questing between Jim's ass-cheeks.

For all the noise Jim makes, when he comes he's completely silent. He gasps wet and hoarse, grinds down on the fingers playing him and presses into the mouths on him, but he doesn't even let loose a whimper. He hangs suspended for a moment between the three of them, his whole body shaking, and then the strings are cut and he collapses. Leonard catches him, bruises a collarbone against Jim's solid forehead and doesn't care.

Over the top of Jim's wet-dark hair, Leonard eyes the other two. Chekov's back on his feet licking his lips. Sulu's eyes are a bit glazed. When Jim shivers in Leonard's arms, he realises – "Sulu, keep your goddamn fingers to yourself!" The man flinches back, withdraws his fingers from their hidey-hole, and Jim settles. "Y'all back to normal?" Leonard asks.

"Aye sir," Chekov says. His voice is hoarse.

"Yes. I think – Yes." That's Sulu. Leonard's not convinced, because his eyes are still way too blown, but he did just orgasm, so Leonard will give him the benefit of the doubt this time.

"Right. Blood tests for everyone, then twenty-four hour sick leave spent in your quarters. Understood?"

"Yes doctor," they chorus. Leonard nods at the door.

"Get outta my Sickbay."

They flee, leaving Leonard with Jim and the water streaming down, washing the last of the spunk away.


End file.
